"I have been visiting friends at Quebec," he explained, "It was there that the message from our house found me, commanding me to hasten here. I started at once, and reached this city Saturday. I drove here directly from the station, but was so unfortunate as to miss you." "I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble," I said. "But, my dear Mr. Lester," he protested, "it is for us to take trouble. A blunder of this sort we feel as a disgrace. My father, who is of the old school, is most upset concerning it. But this death of Mr. Vantine--it is a great blow to me. I have met him many times. He was a real connoisseur--we have lost one of our most valued patrons. You say that he was found dead in a room at his house?" "Yes, and death resulted from a small wound on the hand, into which some very powerful poison had been injected." "That is most curious. In what manner was such a wound made?" "That we don't know. I had a theory...." "Yes?" he questioned, his eyes gleaming with interest. "A few hours previously, another man had been found in the same room, killed in the same way." "Another man?" "A stranger who had called to see Mr. Vantine. My theory was that both this stranger and Mr. Vantine had been killed while trying to open a secret drawer in the Boule cabinet. Do you know anything of the history of that cabinet, Monsieur Armand?" "We believe it to have been made for Madame de Montespan by Monsieur Boule himself," he answered. "It is the original of one now in the Louvre which is known to have belonged to the Grand Louis." "That was Mr. Vantine's belief," I said. "Why he should have arrived at that conclusion, I don't know--" "Mr. Vantine was a connoisseur," said M. Armand, quietly. "There are certain indications which no connoisseur could mistake." "It was his guess at the history of the cabinet," I explained, "which gave me the basis for my theory. A cabinet belonging to Madame de Montespan would, of course, have a secret drawer; and, since it was made in the days of de Brinvilliers and La Voisin, what more natural than that it should be guarded by a poisoned mechanism?" "What more natural, indeed!" breathed my companion, and I fancied that he looked at me with a new interest in his eyes. "It is good reasoning, Mr. Lester." "It seemed to explain a situation for which no other explanation has been found," I said. "And it had also the merit of picturesqueness." "It is unique," he agreed eagerly, his eyes burning like two coals of fire, so intense was his interest. "I have been from boyhood," he added, noticing my glance, "a lover of tales of mystery. They have for me a fascination I cannot explain; there is in my blood something that responds to them. I feel sometimes that I would have made a great detective--or a great criminal. Instead of which, I am merely a dealer in curios. You can understand how I am fascinated by a story so outré as this."